


Bounty Hunting Certainly Is A Profession

by centaari



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Bondage, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, He Still Escapes, Masturbation, Other, Tentacle Sex, The Sarlacc Fucks Boba Fett I Don't Know What You Want Me To Tell You, Throat Fucking, Vaguely Mind-Breaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centaari/pseuds/centaari
Summary: When falling into the Sarlacc, Boba expects one hell of a fight. One he's going to make it out of, somehow. He always does.Perhaps. The only problem is his lack of knowledge of the creature - mainly, of course, that it prefers to at first turn its victim into a shaking, whimpering mess.
Relationships: Boba Fett/The Sarlacc
Comments: 23
Kudos: 94





	Bounty Hunting Certainly Is A Profession

**Author's Note:**

> i thought i'd regret it but i really don't think i will
> 
> please please PLEASE for the love of everything heed the tags

The Sarlacc, Boba Fett thinks, is definitely not a good place to be in without boots that would keep him anchored to the ground. The stomach pulses and moves underneath his feet, and he almost falls twice before he figures it's high time he bolted. Maybe found that little Jedi and showed him what fun a little stunt like his was.

He sighs, and activates his flamethrower. Always works well against organic matter, this shouldn't be any different.

The flames flash, something in front of him squeels, and he sees a blackened tendril drop to the ground.

He raises an eyebrow as he readies another blast, feeling his vambrace warm, then aiming vaguely to where more tentacles are supposed to be - he saw them curling greedily toward him, slick and glistening, as he fell. _Oya_.

Before the fire can spit from his vambrace, the walls shake around him, and the ground quivers with it, tipping him over as he falls to one knee. There's a long, deep noise that Boba can feel in his chest - it's the Sarlacc's voice. He doubts any of its meals have ever tried to fry it in turn before. Well. There's a first time for everything.

He bares his teeth under his helmet and aims again, to the side, where he hears slithering, when the floor of the Sarlacc's stomach dips down and sends him rolling, sprawling across the ground. His armour is heavy, he feels it more than ever. 

"Haar'chak!" He tries to leap to his feet, the ground shakes again - he reaches to the wall for support.

Boba realizes a bit too late that he's been knocked away from said wall, and grabs onto one of the tendrils, which wastes no time in wrapping around his wrist, squeezing. The slime coating its exterior is seeping through to his skin and sending a shiver up his spine. It's warm, strangely enough.

"Oh, for -"

He rips it off his arm, but two more take its place, wrapping around his forearm, dragging him forward until they can press it firmly to the wall. Boba’s vibroblade is in his hand in a matter of moments and he slashes at his bounds again, but only succeeds in perhaps scratching one when tendrils grab at his free wrist and drag it around, pinning it to his back. He grits his teeth at the stretch it puts on his shoulder, twists the blade out of his hand. He's kicking, and - 

There are two more, pressing his feet to the ground. He tries to rip them out and fails, they only ground him firmer. Strangely, he can almost feel the pronounced pressure through his boots. They climb higher - or perhaps there are others, slithering around his thighs, dipping, at times, underneath the armour. They writhe around him with ease, squeezing his thighs and shins in uneven intervals, almost like they’re trying to hasten the blood flow. Boba scowls and squirms about - there's another vibroblade underneath his belt, if he could only reach it -

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, there's pressure against his crotch.

He snaps his head down quicker than he can even process what's happening, and, surely enough, the tentacle is rubbing pretty tellingly against his pants. He balls his fists, tries to wiggle away - it's futile.

He sneers, then, instead, "What in hell's name do you think you're - ah-!"

The tentacle slips underneath his codpiece, cutting him off as his voice gets caught in his throat. Boba grits his teeth, refusing to make any more noise, even as - even as the damned thing strokes a line right against his cock. It curls up and down, up and down, pressing against him, base to tip.

 _Uh_ , he thinks, eloquently, _the fuck?_

Before he can voice any other complaints, his codpiece is unattached with a click. The back, too. He cringes at the disrespect shown to his armour as it falls to the ground, but he figures he's got more pressing matters at hand.

Such as the fact that the constant stroking is getting a little too interesting for his cock, sparking perhaps the weirdest flare of arousal in his gut he's ever experienced.

 _No_ , he tells himself. _I am - I am not having sex right now. What the fuck._

But the tentacle on his cock seems to think differently as Boba feels another curling around his chest, restraining him further. The first one then slowly rises over his belt - and pushes itself underneath it.

Boba writhes, feeling gooseflesh rising up his arms, doing everything he can to make sure this doesn't go where he thinks it's going -

It brushes against his cock, wrapping around the base to rise up and rub the very tip against his slit. He hisses, tries to buck away, but there’s nowhere to run, and the tentacle just _feels_ amused at his efforts as it doubles down. It's slimy and soft, and the texture is -

Well, it's - it's better than he thought. He throws his head back. "Fuck - you - _nng_ -!" His eyes are wide, his helmet heavy on his head as he stares up at the slowly rising and falling ceiling of the Sarlacc's stomach. It's taunting him, almost. 

This certainly doesn't feel like being digested. Instead it feels - well, Boba doesn’t exactly want to think what it feels like, and he definitely doesn’t want to think that it feels _good_ , no matter what his body is telling him. What’s the point in this, he wonders, what does the Sarlacc get from its prey squirming like this, trying to avoid the pleasure, the tentacles, and since when are there so many wrapped around him? He doesn’t remember when the one trailing up his stomach got there, nor the one winding around his throat, squeezing lightly, in a manner that could almost be interpreted as playfulness. He barely feels another sliding down the other side, slithering down to his ass - 

Until it rubs against his entrance, almost gently, twisting itself against it, and its touch is wet and soft, it almost feels like he's being bloody licked -

Boba doesn't know what he's supposed to do about this. He doesn't recognize his body's response to the creature rubbing up against him, jerking him off, he has no idea why the fuck he's hard and aching -

 _Is this how it keeps its prey complacent?_ Boba wonders, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth as the tentacle on his ass smears something wet over it, dipping inside just the slightest bit, rubbing it in. It feels like he's going numb with only a tingling sensation remaining - a relaxant, or perhaps an anesthetic -

His cock twitches, leaking, as he holds back a groan. An aphrodisiac. _Lovely_. Of course nobody escapes the Sarlacc. The Sarlacc's busy fucking them, and they're busy liking it.

Hell no. He'd prefer to get back to Slave I by the evening, thank you very much. Find a new job, maybe find what’s left of Jabba’s syndicate -... Jerk off in the fresher or some other shit that pretty decisively doesn't involve tentacles coiling around him. Boba shakes his head, twists his body to at least get that much resistance in. 

It's another mistake.

Suddenly the pressure against his throat doubles and his helmet is being lifted. Just a bit, just enough for a tentacle to squeeze through and rest against his mouth. He's suddenly very glad he closed it as the tendril rubs against his lips, dragging itself between them.

 _Fuck no._ If the Sarlacc can do telepathy or some shit, well, Boba's got a few things to tell it. _I'm not opening my mouth. Fuck off._

Almost as if it's responding to his thoughts, a thick weight coils around his legs as the tentacles around his ankles let up, and his shins are squeezed together. 

_Oh, great. What now._

The tentacle on his crotch, he feels, then, is trapped between his legs. He strains his muscles in hopes of crushing it, at least damaging it - and that, too, is a mistake.

The slick tendril pulls back, a little, before thrusting forward, and the feeling of it dragging against his cock is so much rawer when he's tense. He bites back a groan as he notes that he can feel all of it - the thrusts of the tentacle between his thighs, the pressure of it every time it rubs against him, the other tendril still plastered firmly against his lips, coating them in some sticky sort of liquid he can't even wipe off.

The tentacle fucks the space between his thighs, rubbing against his cock with every push forward. Boba realizes, abruptly, that he's certainly not the first human unfortunate enough to fall into its clutches - and this means, in turn, that the Sarlacc has had its practice, its experiments, and knows just how to make a human break. 

The pressure is too appealing. Boba squirms around, trying to lose the tentacles, but they just shove harder against him, almost like they're punishing him for every wrong move. It's sick. It feels good.

But it only pushes him over the edge when the tendril on his ass drives in a little too deep, spilling the thick foam on his inner walls. It’s warm and sticky and inside of him, and that thought is a bit too overwhelming for him.

He has no idea when he got there, when it all got too much, but he comes, then, shaking, coating the floor of the Sarlacc's stomach with white, and throws back his head with a groan, forgetting himself. It doesn't stop rubbing against him, and his mouth drops open.

The tentacle is inside his mouth in a matter of seconds. He tries to yelp around it, gasp, do anything - but he can't even close his teeth enough around it to bite, it's pressed against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, stretching him as it pushes deeper. Boba grunts when it reaches the back of his throat - and slithers further. He sputters, choking on the thick slime it leaves in his mouth, and the tentacle pulls back - only to thrust forward again.

It's fucking his throat as the other squeezes his cock, and the third squirms just the slightest bit in his ass. It's maddening. Boba doesn't have it in him to come again but his cock rises anyway, driven too far by the treatment -

The Sarlacc's tentacles pulse, suddenly, and thicken. He chokes around the one in his throat, and the one in his ass stretches him - and then the damn thing's making a mess inside him, spilling down his throat and into his ass, filling both with a warm liquid. It tastes sweet rather than salty, and reminds him a little of bactade. Not that he has much time to think about that because it's working its come inside him instead of pulling out, making him swallow and not letting any gush out. He arches his back helplessly as the aphrodisiac takes full effect, and the harder he fights it, the tighter the clutches wrap around him, massaging his stomach and bringing his hands up above his head -

It feels almost like he's floating, the strange warmth making his brain feel like he's somewhere distant. His muscles are going involuntarily slack as he keens; the creature just came but the tentacles keep fucking him, and he - 

He twitches in a valiant effort to keep himself from the stimulation but still spends himself, again, with a high cry he can't hold back. He can't hold any of it back anymore.

There is but one moment of calm. He can't even use it to think properly - all thought feels like it's been sucked out of his brain. It's either the drug or the overstimulation, it occurs to him, from somewhere far away.

Then, suddenly, the tentacles are lifting him, still sensitive. He bites down on his lip when the weight slips from his mouth for a moment, holding back a moan at the shift. His legs are bent, almost pressed to his chest, his rim twitching in the air, slick and aching. 

He sees the tentacle curl down, realizes what's going to happen, and tries his best, one last time, to writhe away. 

The tentacle is relatively slim, not to mention smooth and slimy, but it's not like Boba has much experience getting fucked this way, it slowly pushing in and out as another wraps around his cock again, stroking it up and down, trying to get it hard again.

"Hn - ah - it doesn't, fuck, it doesn't work that way," he manages, his hands clenching and unclenching around nothing. He can't even touch himself, much less try to free himself. This thing's got him thoroughly trapped. "I can't just - mmh!"

Another tentacle slams back into his mouth, cutting him off and shoving itself down into his throat immediately. He gags as it gyrates, thrusting without letting him breathe, coating his mouth almost instantly with the sweet liquid, filling him, as he chokes and gasps, with more aphrodisiac. 

The tightness rapidly returning to his gut is ridiculous. He just came. But whatever the properties of the semen are, they're overwriting all his normal functions. His mouth is open without protest, he's shivering at even the warm air inside the Sarlacc.

His cock is fully hard again, flush against his stomach, when he feels two thicker tentacles prodding at his entrance. He closes his eyes, knowing they won't listen to him, but they won't fit, they can't -

Boba just about sobs out a mix of pleasure and tension as the first breaches him, just the head, slithering up, up, he feels his walls burning - it pulls out, then pushes back in, fucking him slowly as the slimmer tentacle turns and twists. He moans around the one in his mouth as the final one joins, three of them in his ass, now, thrusting in and out like clockwork, dipping further and further with each shove as the other crawls down his throat, eager and filling.

It's not so much that the tentacles are being pushed deeper inside of him, it feels more like he's the one being pulled down, more tendrils around his hips holding him down, slamming him against the tentacles. _Fuck_ he's so hard, he's twitching, his cock leaking and reddened -

The tentacles reach - something, within him, a spot, he feels it with his whole body as he _yells_ , the spike of pleasure too much, too much, and they don't stop fucking him, they only speed up, adjust so they're hitting that spot with every thrust.

His eyes roll back subconsciously. _Thrice-fucking-damnit, it feels good. So good, so fucking good -_

 _Do you hear yourself, boy?_ Something purrs, suddenly, into his ear. He shakes his head, trying to lose the voice, whatever it is. It chuckles, sweetly. Not his voice, then. But coming from his own mind, perhaps affected by the fluids. _Do you hear the sounds you're making?_ He does. It's damn embarrassing, but whenever he tries to smother them, they just spill out his mouth with thrice the force. _Don't hide. It feels good, doesn't it? It feels wonderful. And you whimper so prettily._

He is not _whimpering_.

 _What do you call this, then?_ Two of the tentacles fuck in, hard, making Boba lurch forward with perhaps the least dignified cry he's ever made in his life. _Oh? Look at you, gasping for air. What do you want? More? Like this?_ He's sobbing. He can't stop it, no matter how hard he tries. There's too much, rubbing against him from every side. They've picked the spot that makes Boba writhe and they won't let up, they won't let him squirm. _Just listen to yourself. Let yourself beg, eventually. I am very patient. I'll hear you, whenever you're ready._

It takes a good minute for him to feel release washing over him again, two of the tentacles pressed hard against his prostate. He spasms and shakes and twitches but they just don't _stop_ , fucking him through it and holding him up for more, and he can't, he _can't_ , everything is too much, too much.

The tentacle he cut has a weaker grip on his arm, he thinks foggily. And it - _It's gonna relax more once the damn thing comes again,_ it occurs to him. 

He has to make it come. And soon. He isn't sure he can handle another round and not go mad with all of this.

So he closes his eyes as to not see his own shame, and presses his lips around the tentacle in his mouth, the base of which is coiling around his wrist. He hollows his cheeks as he sucks around it, bobbing his head to get more, the tentacle quickly growing very interested in the situation, twisting in his mouth, then, his throat - he chokes as it drips down to his stomach, more of that sweet foam, as he loses the sense of his own mouth other than the fact that he's flattening his tongue against the tendril, that he's licking and gasping for air as it fucks deep down into his throat, wiping his mind with pleasure.

He presses back his hips, too, the tentacles there just as excited, shifting in and out of him without a minute to let him breathe, and they reach the spot inside him so quickly -

He grunts with each thrust, groans every time it rubs against his prostate. He needs this thing to come before he does, he's not even sure he knows what he was planning to do but he'll certainly lose it if he spills again and the tentacles pump more of that maddening come inside him without letting a drop spill out, they won't even let him rest, just push him harder against the wall and fuck him some more, spiking pleasure up his body until he can't breathe through the tentacle in his mouth, he wonders what they intend to do to him, if they want to fill him up until he can't take anymore, and - _Yes, yes, elek, fuck_ , with every thrust his mind goes more and more numb and he wants this, he needs this, yes, _Yes, please, more, please -_

Its hum of contentment reverberates in Boba's very chest as he feels the Sarlacc's tentacles pulse inside him, driving him so close, so _close_ , before its spend gushes freely, the warm feeling overwhelming him, slithering down his throat and up his gut, and the tentacle's hold weakens on his hand -

 _Yes_ , its hold weakens, Boba could pull his arm out if he focuses on it, he could slam it against the wall just where the trigger for the flames is -

 _But why_ , asks his mind sweetly. It's not his own voice, it's - something else, ancient and - _Doesn't this feel good? Don't you like it, the feel of it squirming inside you, fucking you so deeply, filling you up? Don't you want it to make you come again and then do it all over until you can't think of anything else, until it's just you and its reach inside you, and this overwhelming pleasure? You want it, you want to moan freely around its weight in your throat as it finds new ways to prolong this sweet torture, you want to feel it spill down to your stomach, you want it to take you, to have you, to -_

He honest-to-fuck whines wetly around the tentacle in his mouth when he feels it thicken again, its base so stiff and buried so deep inside - it'd fuck his mouth again, he's sure of it, spill deep within him until he's full, perhaps only then let it gush through his lips, roll down his chin -

_Fuck!_

_No, no, no. Enough. It's fucking enough!_

The flame ignites with a roar, and the Sarlacc _screeches_ from somewhere deep below him. The hold on him loosens then disappears as the tendrils slip out of his ass, as he grabs the one in his mouth with freed hands and rips it out as it tries to get him closer, immobilize him again, spilling the sweet liquid over his tongue - he spits it out.

His jetpack still works. In-fucking-credible.

His helmet is slammed onto his face by the air pressure when he rises, barely able to steer himself clear of the rest of the reaching tentacles as the Sarlacc shakes with rage -

One coils around his leg. 

He slams his heel onto his trapped ankle until something is crushed and the tendril falls back down.

Boba's jetpack has always been a wonder.

It drops him down, now, rather unceremoniously, onto the ground, and he finds that he can't stand - falls to his knees, dragging himself forward, the heat in his gut only tightening with every meter he makes away.

 _You were such a good boy,_ the voice that is still pretty clearly not coming from him purrs into his ear, disappointed and dreamy at the same time, the same one, the same one as in the - _Didn't you like it? Didn't it feel good, getting fucked?_

"What the hell," he mutters, dragging himself further with a groan.

There's nobody around him, it's dark, but even if it wasn't, he wouldn't care. He crawls just far away enough from the cursed creature before the drag gets too much and he falls, barely resting on one elbow, reaching down to push aside the miserable mess that's left of his pants, and dragging his hand across his hole. Its come is still oozing slowly out of him, trickling down his thighs - he sighs as he works two digits inside, then a third once because he finds it not being enough.

He needs release, he needs - just a little more -

He ruts into the sand, thanking Manda that the front of his pants is still somewhat intact. His cock rubs against the hard ground as he fingers himself, desperate and guttural "Ah - ah - _ah_ -"s spilling through his lips, no matter how hard he tries to smother them.

"Please," he gasps out - he's never begged for anything before, he will not start now - "Please, please, gedet'ye, haar'chak, fuck -"

 _I could do with a cock in my ass right about now_ , he thinks, and almost laughs at the thought. Is it coming from him or is it still the voice of the Sarlacc, tempting him back? He's good. Yes, getting actually fucked would relieve him faster, would make his come splatter against the sand as someone pushes against him, inside him, a hard line of pleasure up his spine, gripping his hips, perhaps, slamming him onto their cock -

Eventually - quickly - he comes anyway, falling forward as he lifts his helmet and shoves two fingers into his mouth to keep himself quiet, as he moans around them regardless, his muscles twitching around nothing as he pulls away, as his cock spurts out the remains of his come, relatively little after the Sarlacc's thorough handling.

He stays in the shameful position sheerly because of his lack of energy to roll over, his ass in the air as his cheek rubs against the sand. His helmet cuts uncomfortably against his face, but he only breathes deeply as he finally feels his mind returning to him, feeling all his aches, all the spots where it was just too _much_.

He lies, then, in the sand, for a good while, counting down the seconds. After sixteen minutes exactly, he sits up and works to stand. His legs are giving him hell, but he'll make it to - Mos Eisley, perhaps. 

He feels it still, as he walks, his come and the Sarlacc's, mushing into one all over - and inside - his body.

* * *

It's always the same dream, but at least there's never any pain. The tentacles seize him, spread his legs and take him, take him with all they have, pumping their thick come inside him until he's dripping with it, his stomach is full and he can feel it running down his legs, rolling down his chin. 

It's just that he never manages to escape. It keeps him there, anchored to the wall, and he _likes_ it that way, likes being unable to think unless to process it twitching inside him once more just before it coats him in its sticky seed again -

He wakes hot and aching, always, breathing shallow breaths. His cock is always hard and even leaking against his stomach and there's nothing he can do other than wrap his hand around it and fuck up into the circle of his fingers, trying not to imagine the slimy tentacles curling inside him, making him feel so full and warm, so good, so _good--_

 _The Sarlacc breaks men_ , is his last thought before his breath stutters and he comes so hard he has to shove a fist into his mouth to muffle the noise, _and not just the ones that fail to escape it._

**Author's Note:**

> "Oya" - A positive exclamation, "Let's hunt".  
> "Haar'chak!" - "Damn it!"  
> "Gedet'ye" - "Please".  
> "Elek" - "Yes".
> 
> no i don't know what i'm doing <3 it simply do be like that sometimes. thank you for reading this uh, this thing :)


End file.
